Democracy World Arc, Part XXI

West Bank Palestinian Authority
April 25th, 2011

Sergeant Winters coughed on the air processed by his NBC suit. He carefully searched the blasted, crater-filled desert for any hostiles as he waved the rest of his squad out of their M2 Bradley. He listened for any sounds that might reveal a wounded or hostile soldier, but he heard nothing. The fury of Israel’s nuclear arsenal left none of the combined Egyptian, Syrian and Palestinian forces alive. Only a few charred tanks, crumbling buildings and shrapnel indicated that civilization had once existed there. Winters knew the situation was the apocalyptic same all over Israel and in many parts of Egypt and Syria. The Israelis, their air power somehow negated by the Egyptians, resorted to using their nuclear weapons. To their, and the rest of the world’s, surprise, Egypt struck back.

Walking several paces away from the Bradley, Winters examined the remains what was once a Merkava tank. The nuclear flame had stripped away any markings it might have had. Any symbols indicating its particular allegiances, any proud displays of enemy tanks killed or disabled, were gone. The hull, however, was largely intact. Though its treads were gone and its barrel was warped and melted, the body of the Merkava looked like it had a good chance of containing survivors of this horrible battle. There was a chance, however slim, that this tanks crew was still alive, clinging on to life. Winters looked for any sort of hatch or opening and found one on the turret. He climbed onto the metal beast and tried to open the hatch, but to no avail. The crew must have locked the hatch from the inside. From a pouch attached to his belt, he took out a can of fluorescent spray paint and marked an x on the turret. Special recovery crews would deal with the tank later. In the meanwhile, Winters had a more important job to do.

The sergeant unfolded a sheet of paper he was assigned and scanned the horizon for any silhouettes resembling the pictures on the paper. He was told these “high quality” satellite pictures were taken at a great cost, as most aerial and ground-based recon was useless. To the uninformed, the subject of the pictures were just military vehicles: APCs, trucks and old tanks. Nothing special at all. But Winters knew exactly what those vehicles were and exactly why the government wanted their hands on them. Looking around, he saw nothing resembling the “unknowns.” The Chinese were never known for creating high-quality products, so Winters theorized that most of them must have been vaporized by the nuke. Still, there could be one that survived the Israeli attack, further away from the epicenter. Winters ordered his men back to the Bradley.

Once inside, he sat back down and said nothing. The entire vehicle contained none of the usual banter and small talk it would if the squad was on a “normal” mission. Everyone, including some battle-hardened Marines that had fought since the beginning of Operation Iraqi Liberation, had been speechless since they drove into the blast zone. The scene before them belonged more to the Western Front of WWI than to any modern conflict. Winters supposed it was for the best; the silence allowed him to concentrate in his search for the mysterious anti-aircraft weapons the Egyptians had brought to the fight. In the distance, about two and a half miles from the epicenter, he saw what appeared to be another tank, but this one was different. It wasn’t a burned out husk or a blackened hunk of metal; it looked comparatively pristine. Winters ordered the Bradley to drive up so he could investigate.

As the Bradley drove closer and closer to the tank, Winters noticed more oddities about it. The tank’s shape was neither American, Israeli nor Soviet; in fact, its profile resembled that of the German panzers of WWII than any main battle tank Winters had seen. It was taller than it was wide, its barrel much shorter than that of any modern tanks Winters knew of. The tank’s paint, though charred, was not in as bad condition as the other wrecks nearby. It was clear that it was painted for the Egyptian army, even displaying the Eagle of Saladin. Seeing the markings, Winters ordered the Bradley to stop and his squad to disembark and bring a Javelin with them. If the vehicle was still active and hostile, having all of the men in one easy to destroy target was foolish. They would approach the wreck on foot.

As Winters approached the tank, its odd nature became more apparent. It sat in the middle of a circle of dirt that looked like it suffered less abuse than anything outside of it. Climbing atop the tank, he noticed that the material the tank was made of seemed like a mix of plastic and metal. Scraping off the blackened paint, he saw that the surface suffered very little heat damage. What appeared to be a heavy machine gun was mounted next to the barrel. The barrel was rectangular, rather than circular, and there was no hatch on the turret. Instead, the hatch was placed on the tank’s hull itself. Winters tried to pry it open, but to no avail. Again, the crew had sealed the turret shut.

“Alright boys, nothing to see here,” Winters informed his squad as he climbed off the tank. Winters and his squad turned away from the tank and walked towards the Bradley. As he led the way to the Bradley, he reminded himself to inform command about this strange vehicle once he got back to the American base of operations in Syria. After a few paces, Winters heard a strange screeching sound coming from behind him. Mere moments later, a bright flash appeared from the Bradley, knocking Winters off his feet. His squad mobilized, but to Winters’ horror they all exploded into piles of steaming gore. As Winters felt himself pass in and out consciousness, he heard the marching of boots behind him.